


A Child of Winter Ice and Golden Warmth

by OnlyALIttlePsycho



Category: Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, Staryk Child, but only in private where no one else sees, elf vampire princesses are no different, future queen, it's a fact, kids hate shoes, she gets it from her dad, who is secretly a teddy bear with his family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyALIttlePsycho/pseuds/OnlyALIttlePsycho
Summary: She is the daughter of the Staryk King and his Golden Lady. Sometimes her mother thinks she's more stubborn than them both.
Relationships: Miryem Mandelstam/The Staryk Lord
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	A Child of Winter Ice and Golden Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All! I had this idea in my head of a little tot dancing in the snow and giggling with delight. And it wouldn't leave my head. As I was writing, this little Staryk Princess wanted to grow up, so she's a bit older than the toddler I originally sat to write. She's somewhere around the 10-12 stage.
> 
> Also, I am not Jewish nor do I speak Hebrew. I used the power of Google to look up words and the rules of transliteration. Aka what are appropriate terms of endearment and do I capitalize words that are being used as names/ proper nouns? I did my best to be accurate and appreciative of a culture that isn't mine, but I don't have a beta or sensitivity reader to double check. So if you are someone who does belong to either the Jewish community or speaks Hebrew, please let me know how I did. (And let me ask you 8000 questions so I could maybe write a little holiday scene or include more of Miryem's culture throughout any future fics.)  
> EDIT TO ADD: Thank you to those who have informed me that Yiddish is the proper language for everyday speech in this context while Hebrew is viewed as the sacred/ religious language. I will be conscious of this in the future and have edited the fic to use more accurate language. 
> 
> Thank you for stopping in. Enjoy the fic!

The child ran barefoot through the snow, delighted by the crunch it made as she wandered. To her eyes, the crystals reflected rainbows that leaped and shifted as she did. A child of winter, but also of the golden sunlight.

A small hare raced across the pathway in search of a place to hide. It’s fur was a perfect, bright white, but it provided the creature no camouflage to the child’s eyes. Indeed, her own hair was white as the snow they stood on though it fell in ringlets about her shoulders. And with her brown eyes filled with flakes of gold, she could see each individual strand of fur, some carrying small flakes of ice, and the small pink pads of the creature’s toes as it flew through the air. The child looked to the sky. A grey-flecked white hawk began its dive. So it was a frantic flight for the hare indeed.

She turned and headed back to the gardens. It wouldn’t be long before one of her keepers came looking. Or worse, Ima. Her mother could be very... humbling in her quiet worry.

But the child was _fine_ , really. She knew these woods, this land, as only a child born to it could. In a sense, they were _her_ woods, her sanctuary, her home. She had spent days and weeks and months and years of her life amongst these trees and these creatures. And one day, she would be the one to summon the ice road that lead to a farm (once just a small cabin) at the edge of the forest.

Sometimes, Mame would take her across the woods in the sled pulled by her father’s deer. In winter, her father would come as well, opening the way between the worlds. And there they would all be. The rest of her family in their favorite place.

Where Sergey and Stepon tend the farm, but it’s Wanda that manages the books and the workers who have come to settle and help. Where Zeyde holds her in his lap as he tells stories by the fireplace, the wood crackling as it burns. Where Bobea gives unlimited hugs as they bake cookies, the smell filling the entire house. And where sometimes, Mame will dash the flour on her child’s nose before shoving a spoon covered in dough into Father’s face, saying that one bite surely wouldn’t hurt a thing. And where Father will raise an eyebrow before leaving to discuss something with Zeyde.

(But where sometimes, Mame would follow Father out the door, dough laden spoon in hand. And where, when Father thought no one else was looking, he would take a bite, a small smile on his lips as he placed a kiss on her hand, whispering "Lady". Then, as Mame returns triumphant to the house, he will turn to tend the deer or finish looking for Zeyde. But not before staring at his daughter watching from the window and placing a finger against his lips, the sunlight and laughter hidden in the creases beside his eyes.)

And despite the fact that it might be summer in the human realm and that they couldn't truly open the passageway, Mame and her child would creep to the cabin-turned farm, and they would leave a small token behind. The child loved to create snowmen for her Bobea even though they would only last a few short hours in the hot sun. But this way they all would know she was here too, still thinking of her family.

She would have to ask Mame this afternoon when they could go again. (Father was away on some business for the next while, leaving Ima in charge of the castle. She was always very busy whilst Father was away.)

As she exited the woods and crossed a great field of snow, the Field of Eternal Roses, all white of course and each bloom glazed with frost, came into view. This particular garden was a gift to Mame from Father. (The child wasn't quite sure for what as her Father's gifts were somewhat rare, and this one was bestowed before her memory. He showed his love in other ways.) It was Mame's favorite place to sit with her tea and gossip with Flek.

The child had hoped her mother's current busy schedule would not have allowed her to repose here this afternoon, but no such luck greeted her. Rather, her mother looked pointedly at her over the steaming, porcelain cup as she sat on the marble bench. Flek, who had been nearby with some embroidery or another, quietly stood and re-entered the palace.

The child approached gayly, trying to make her face look as innocent as possible. "You look lovely today, Mame. How is your tea?" Her mother sat her teacup back upon the saucer in her lap before nodding at the space on the bench next to her. The child sat, biting at her lip. Here it came, she knew, the subtle prodding that was almost worse than a guilt trip or even scolding.

Her mother's arm laid itself over her shoulders, and the warmth of Mame's breath tickled her scalp. "Did you know I was sitting just here when I realized I was pregnant with you?" The child glanced sideways up at her mother. This was… not quite the direction she expected this conversation to take. Normally it was "Shofer couldn't find you after the midday meal," or "We were meant to have a lesson on blah, blah, blah this afternoon." She stayed silent, waiting for her mother to continue. "

I had been cross with your father for three days; I can't quite remember over what. It must have been some silly thing. This wasn't a garden yet, just an empty field and the small pond. I was sitting on my knees in the snow, my robes getting positively soaked and ruined, ready to scream at the sky. I had a small stone in my hand, not much more than a pebble really, but still rough. I was going to hurl it at the water just to see something react to my anger. Even if it was only the surface of the water. Your father can be so… reserved," she smirked gently, eyes looking up to the past.

"It was then, with my hand above my head and the sharp edges digging into my palm, that I felt it. A small spark of magic settling low in my abdomen. And I knew. It startled me enough to drop the stone and then I just... held my hands over you, so focused on feeling that low hum of magic making itself at home, cocooning you in its protection.

"You've surprised me at every turn since that day, bubbeleh. You were a miracle we were never sure would happen. We knew it was possible, and we dreamed of you of course. But there was always a slight doubt, more of a fear really, or an anxiety, that our bloods wouldn't mix and we would never meet a child of our own. We kept hope though, and I certainly prayed often enough. Some nights, we'd even lay in bed musing what a child of ours might look like. Would it be a boy or girl? My eyes or his? Would their hair fall as straight as his or wave in curls like mine?"

"Am I then?" The child inquired, eyes facing down at her lap. "What you and Father imagined I would be?"

Mame kissed the child's hair and squeezed her closer. "You have been beyond our imaginings, darling. You are exactly who you are meant to be. Bare feet, wild hair and all." Her mother paused, resting her lips against her daughter's head.

"You carry a strong spirit and a stronger heart, dearest. It has been my greatest gift to be your mother. I loved you in the moment I knew you were to exist and every moment since. Your father too. If only there was a way to show you his face when he realized I was at last with child." Her mother chuckled, and the child joined in with a grin. She could only imagine the form her father’s face took, somehow blank and yet showing such great shock or even wonder.

"We love you exactly as you are," Mame continued, "and for who you are, our child who would spend every day in the trees if she could."

"I love you, Mame." The child turned into her mother's side, holding herself close. "I'm sorry I left Shofer behind today." Her mother chuckled.

"I know, and you needn't explain it to me. But you may want to put on shoes before you head upstairs."

The child stiffened, eyes opening wide as she pulled back to look at her mother's smiling face. "He's back?" She jumped to her feet to look her mother full in the face. She nodded.

"Your father is waiting in his chambers for you."

The child gasped and took off at a run. Her father was home!

She was still out of breathe as she skidded in front of his desk minutes later with new, clean clothes (a dress and shoes, Mame!) covering her dirt smeared legs and arms. "Hello, Father." She said, nearly rushing the two short words. "Welcome home!"

His (nearly) emotionless face looked up from his paperwork to take in her appearance. Though his lips didn't quirk (they so rarely did), she knew he was laughing. While both her parents supported the need for proper court apparel around the palace, her father was the first join her in the woods (and to leave his boots at the camp site).

"I thought we'd have a lesson about your magics this afternoon, but it appears you had no time for me, Little One."

"I didn't know you were coming back today!" She protested. "Ima said you'd be gone three more days!"

"The Night Court was boring me." He stood up and came round the desk. He leaned over just enough to look his daughter in the eye. "I believe you will be in need of your leggings once more, Dear Heart. I'll wait for you in the stables."

The child gave a soft squeal and ran (again) to change (also again). A gentle clearing of her father’s throat called her to pause. He beckoned her with a finger, and she dashed back to him. He whispered, "As far as your mother is aware, I gave you a thorough scolding about slipping away from your chaperone."

She nodded furiously, and he kissed her forehead. "Go then. And don't forget your boots. My Lady will be quite cross with me if you leave without them twice in one day."

"I won't!" She giggled and raced away. And she wouldn't forget her boots… even if they'd only end up in a tent for two days. Because her father might have been the Staryk King, but Mame was his Lady, and her golden sunlight overruled his winter ice every time. (…at least about _bringing_ the boots.)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few other ideas for one shots/ adventures in the lives of our favorite royal Staryk family. If anyone else would like to read them, let me know and I will post them.
> 
> Thanks for joining til the end. Your author runs on kudos and comments. Ta!


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